


You run in my veins

by gradoprincelyon



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Open to Interpretation, Plot Twists, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gradoprincelyon/pseuds/gradoprincelyon
Summary: The next time they meet Lyon, it isn't on the battlefield. It is in Grado, soon after Vigarde has passed away, because Lyon has been crowned emperor far sooner than anyone would have thought.
Relationships: Ephraim/Lyon (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	You run in my veins

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings  
> there is one sexual scene where one character retracts consent but the other continues in spite of that for a little while until he does stop eventually
> 
> I can't think of what other things should be noted but if you believe anything else should be added to content warnings please do say

The next time they return to Grado, Vigarde is already dead and buried in the ground. It'd scarcely been two years since the twins last saw that kind man, but plague had snuffed out his life just as rain snuffs out a flickering candle.

When they see Lyon, they are not looking at a prince but the next– current– emperor of Grado. Eirika hugs Lyon fiercely, consoling him with sympathies and gentle words that can't make up for what's lost. Ephraim hugs Lyon as well, guilt churning his stomach, because they hadn't been there for Lyon in the days, months, leading up to this, they hadn't been there for the funeral, they hadn't been there for Lyon's grieving. What could he do, what could they do, to make up for that? 

"I'll be alright," Lyon assures, his face tired. His eyes flicker to Ephraim's. "Now that you're here."

* * *

The last time the twins had been in Grado, the purpose was educational. This time, there's no need for Lyon to read thick history texts aloud to him, no need for Lyon to scold his waning focus lest Father MacGregor be disappointed again.

This visit, Lyon requests to spar with him.

Ephraim doesn't find the request too strange, although it has been a long time. They used to in the past, a little, though Lyon never won once. He wonders if he should've gone easier on him back then, maybe he should've stopped being so competitive, maybe he should've let Lyon win? His thoughts are distracted with that misplaced guilt about the past.

"Ready?" Lyon asks, rousing him from his bittersweet nostalgia. A dark tome lay open in his hands. Ephraim adjusts his grip on his lance (wooden, for safety) and nods.

Then Ephraim charges, and they begin a dance of blocks and parries and jabs. Lyon always steps back just out of reach, keeping distance from Ephraim's training lance, but he doesn't cast magic himself. 

Then, in a flash, Lyon does. The spell knocks Ephraim down so hard it steals his breath. His lance is kicked out of his grip, and then Lyon places his foot down on Ephraim's chest, easily, fluidly. It's a hard enough stomp to the chest to surprise him. He looks up at the face of his dear friend, and from this angle, Lyon's head is an eclipse to the sun.

"I win," he says. He smiles down at Ephraim with a kind of look Ephraim hasn't seen before.

"I admit defeat," Ephraim says. "When did you learn _that?_ Lyon, that was incredible."

Lyon doesn't answer right away. He reaches a hand down for Ephraim to take, and pulls him up off the dirt.

"I picked up a few things since your last visit," is what Lyon says.

"Well, its amazing. You're amazing."

Lyon looks away. "Why don't we have some tea?"

* * *

"...think prince– I mean, emperor Lyon will propose to her soon?"

"It's only a matter of time isn't it? I mean, he has to marry some lass."

Ephraim was walking to his sister's room to ask her about something, but he halts dead in his tracks when he overhears this talk.

"Right, and the princess of Renais is here in the castle right now. Everyone working down in the kitchens is talking about it. He must be planning to ask for her hand."

Lyon? Wed Eirika?

Ephraim strains his ears to hear more.

"Well, his majesty is close friends with the Renais heirs, is he not? That's why they're here in Grado," the first servant continues.

"And that's why she's the perfect match, I'll put my money on it. He's going to wed the princess Eirika. You want to bet on it?"

"We're in agreement though. What's there to wager if we both bet on the same girl?"

"Fine then. Let's wager on when the betrothal gets announced. I say it'll be within the year, what say you?"

Ephraim did not stick around to hear the rest of that conversation. 

* * *

_What is it I want to ask Lyon, exactly?_ He thinks the following afternoon. _"Hey, Lyon, I was wondering if you plan to court my sister"? "Do you fancy marrying her"?_ The thought of asking outright was ridiculous. Even if Lyon did hold feelings for Eirika, he was such a shy and reserved person that he'd never admit to it. Least of all to her own twin brother. Lyon knows the twins keep no secrets from each other.

And what is it he'd want Lyon to say? That he _does_ plan to ask Eirika for her hand in marriage, or that he _does not_ wish it? And if he didn't fancy Eirika, what noblewoman would Lyon choose for himself instead?

Ephraim's thoughts feel muddled.

"Ephraim, your thoughts are so loud I can hear them," Lyon says.

"What?"

"It's just an expression. You look like you're thinking too hard." He pokes almost playfully at the crease between Ephraim's brows. "What's gotten you stressed?"

"Uh, it is just..." he trails off, feeling almost guilty and he's not even sure why. Eirika _would_ be a good match for Lyon, assuming they held a mutual affection. They'd probably go on to become one of the most respected, coveted, and adored couples in all of Magvel. Commoners and nobles alike would tell story and song of their perfect, kind, wonderful deeds that'd make Grado prosper for generations yet to come. Emperor Lyon and Empress Eirika. Maybe they really are the perfectly made match. Maybe he-

Ephraim never finishes his wandering train of thought. No, he can't, not with the sudden and predatory way Lyon is looking at him. Ephraim startles once he sees, really sees the way Lyon is staring, and _where_ Lyon is staring, because he's not looking into his eyes. Those violet eyes are looking down towards his mouth, and he reaches to thumb Ephraim's lower lip. 

And then he strikes, like a cobra. His mouth is on Ephraim's so suddenly, Ephraim doesn't know what to do. His mouth is on his. Lyon's _mouth_ is on his. Lyon's _lips_ are on _his_. 

Lyon's mouth is soft. But there's an undeniable edge to it, sharper and harsher than he may have expected. It is intoxicating, it is ambrosia and venom, it is his dearest friend _kissing him_ , and it makes his mind spin.

He doesn't remember how his hands got in Lyon's hair. He doesn't remember how they moved to Lyon's bed. He doesn't remember how the collars of their stiff attire were lowered enough to leave bites on each other's necks. He remembers nails scratching over his chest (he doesn't remember where his shirt went).

It's strange. He'd never thought much about these sorts of things before. Romance, and the like. At least not any more than the fact he'd have to marry someday. Renais had to have heirs, he'd have to provide someday, marry some princess or noblewoman or something of that manner. He always pushed it to the back of his mind, a far-off responsibility that he could attend to when his father was long gone.

He'd never even thought of _men_ before, and yet. 

The hot mouth trailing bite marks down his neck, shoulders, lower still– everywhere Lyon can reach, like marking territory on the planes of Ephraim's muscles.

The hot exchange of breaths in the chill night air.

The sudden throbbing need in his groin, almost alarming for how intensely it hits. 

All of this tells him he should've thought a lot more about his own wants before now. (Deep, deep down, he's always wanted this, whether he was aware or not. He's always wanted Lyon.)

And maybe he should believe this is going fast, much too fast, he doesn't even know the first thing about intimacy. But when Lyon pulls loose his trousers, when his lips wrap around the length of him, when his nails dig into Ephraim's thighs as he takes him deep in his throat–

It's not that it's too fast (it's been a lifetime coming). It's that it's too much.

Ephraim tugs Lyon's hair, haphazardly, anything to get his mouth off of him. Because he honestly means to warn Lyon of his imminent orgasm, but, the good intentions backfire. He sees Lyon look up at him with these bedroom eyes, saliva and precum on his reddened lips, as he pants hot breaths right onto his still-so-sensitive cock. And that's all it takes for Ephraim to spill his seed, he didn't stand a chance. He doesn't realize until it's too late that it paints a mess on Lyon's face, in his hair, and when Ephraim's spent, it drips down Lyon's chin too.

He's ashamed of himself, that the sight makes him harden again so quickly.

Lyon licks his lips and smiles. Ephraim swallows. And he crawls on his hands and knees up to Ephraim's face, and kisses him once more with the mouth that still tastes of Ephraim's own seed.

* * *

That's how their relationship begins, close friends by the light of day and _something more_ by nightfall, by shadows, by fragments of time where they can slip in an alcove alone and away from prying eyes.

At first Ephraim thinks the strokes of slicked hands and the heat of wet mouths on each other's private parts are all there is to this. To intimacy, between men. He is, of course, more than satisfied with this– it's more than he realized was possible.

One night though, Lyon tells him that there is another type of intercourse he wants to try. As he explains the details, Ephraim finds his face heating and his arousal stirring, and he finds himself wondering how what Lyon describes is even possible.

"You talk like you've done this before."

"Would it change things if I have?"

Ephraim pauses. Had… had Lyon been with others? With another man? That would be the implication given the context, wouldn't it? He's never considered it before. But then he'd never thought he'd have sex with Lyon. 

How many others had Lyon courted prior? And Lyon never mentioned a word of it? Was he that private, or did he not trust Ephraim?

"I've never been with another," Lyon says, finally.

Ephraim doesn't want to admit how much that relieves him.

Lyon creeps in closer still. Cups Ephraim's cheek. Whispers over the shell of his ear. "I only desire you."

"Ly–Lyon," Ephraim shivers. His arms wrap around Lyon's middle of their own accord. Lyon falls against Ephraim, and then he can feel Lyon's arousal against his abdominals. Lyon starts to rut against those planes of muscle.

"I want you to stretch me open now," Lyon says in a honey-sweet voice. "Can you do that for me?"

Ephraim makes a sound that he'd meant to be a 'yes' but comes out more like a moan, but it gets the point across anyway. And Lyon guides his fingers to dip in some kind of oil, and Lyon guides his hands further still to reach behind himself. And Lyon stares him down while Ephraim reaches inside tight rings of muscle, and Ephraim thinks, _I am not going to last long inside this, not in the slightest._

Moments later, when Lyon deems himself ready, he shifts his weight back. It surprises him, the feeling of pushing inside Lyon. Tight walls embracing the head of his cock. His feverish impatience and inability to keep from grabbing Lyon by the hips, pulling, sinking the rest of the way inside. His hips move on their own and he is completely inside Lyon, and Lyon's head falls back in a silent moan. The expanse of his neck is intoxicating. Ephraim sinks his teeth in, unable to help himself, he can't help himself around this forbidden fruit.

Lyon rakes his fingers across Ephraim's torso, feeling every bulge and dip of muscle. There is nothing on Lyon's face but desire.

Ephraim finds he can't really think. Not with the way Lyon's taking him, not with the way Lyon's hips move. No, Ephraim doesn't have space in his mind left to think of _anything_ save for the prince– emperor– friend– lover– in his arms. Moonlight seeps in, glistens on Lyon's splayed-out hair on the mattress, Ephraim can see it up close when he pushes Lyon down, or maybe Lyon pulled him down. He loses track of these little insignificant details like he loses track of how many scratch marks or bite marks Lyon leaves in every place he can reach.

When he dreams that night, it's some sort of nightmare, flashes of corpses and battles and a demon's face. He recalls nothing when he wakes save for a sense of foreboding. But the thing is, Lyon lays in his arms when he wakes. He buries his face into soft purple locks of hair, and again he drifts to sleep.

* * *

"Have you noticed Lyon's been acting a bit… oddly?" 

"Hmm?" Ephraim hums at his sister. He's honestly not quite listening, at the moment.

"I'm just worried about him. He...said something quite morbid to me, the other day, but he said it so casually. And that's not the only thing…"

"Well, he's surely still grieving. And there must be so much stress on his shoulders now, becoming emperor this soon," Ephraim says. "None of us expected that."

Eirika bites her lip. "I suppose I fret too much for our dear friend. He hasn't said anything off to you, has he?"

"Off how?" Ephraim doesn't know why he feels so defensive. Of course Lyon was stressed, of course he was still grieving, but there was nothing wrong past that. Really, in Ephraim's opinion, Lyon's been coping shockingly well. "Look, I haven't noticed anything. Lyon's fine. Lyon will be fine when he's gotten more used to everything. You know as well as I do Lyon is kind, gentle, amazingly smart, just a wonderful person in all manners, and fit to be a great ruler. We're his friends, we should have faith in him that he'll be alright."

"I wasn't trying to say he wouldn't be." She sounds annoyed.

"Well. Well it sounded like it."

"Nevermind, I get it. I'll see you later," she huffs and leaves. Ephraim wonders if it was something he'd said.

* * *

_It's funny,_ he thinks one night as Lyon pushes Ephraim down only to steal his breath away with ravenous kisses that won't cease. _It's funny_ he was jealous of his own sister, or at least, jealous of her potential to be the object of Lyon's desires. 

"I don't think of her in the way I do you," Lyon confirms that night. "You are the only one, Ephraim."

"I guess I should've known better. I don't know, I'm slow with these things," Ephraim chuckles lightly.

Lyon fans his fingers across Ephraim's chest, a sheen of sweat on his skin that reflects the candlelight. Lyon's blunt fingernails scratch at his skin. Ephraim's learning that's simply a thing Lyon likes to do. "That isn’t to say I never thought of her in that regard, in the past.”

Ephraim stills. "You did?"

“Once upon a time.”

“What changed?”

Lyon stops dancing his fingers across Ephraim’s chest. He takes one hand and lifts it to his chin, poised. Taps a finger to his lower lip. “I fell out of love with her when I realized… I could never be as much of myself with her as I am with you.”

" _Love?"_ Ephraim feels there is hidden weight and meaning behind the words but he can’t parse them. “Did you... ever tell her?”

“That I loved her? No.” Lyon pauses. “Well technically I had once. A long time ago. ...Nevermind, it hardly matters, she won’t recall it.”

“You had feelings for Eirika first,” Ephraim says, because if he’d really told her that long of a time ago, then–

“No, no. I fell for the both of you at the same time. Listen, Ephraim, forget it. You’re the only one I love now, and you’re–” He leans his head lower so his lips skirt across Ephraim’s ear, “the only one I’ve ever been _together_ with, in any sense.”

The words make Ephraim shiver. And then Lyon pulls his face up to stare into Ephraim’s eyes, and his expression is different now. More vulnerable.

"You are the only one I love."

Ephraim can see the way Lyon stares, waiting for his reaction. Ephraim can see a vulnerability in those lilac pupils that betrays him.

And Ephraim finally registers the true weight of the word, feels the word _love_ wash over him so strongly he doesn't know what to make of the churning in his gut.

"Me too," he says, a little dumbly. It doesn't encompass what he really means to say, but he hopes Lyon understands. He's never been good with words. And now he feels awkward, a little guilty because of his own ineptitude with romantic phrases. So to ease the tension, he smirks and adds "...your majesty."

* * *

"Say it again."

"I'm yours."

"Again."

"I'm yours," Ephraim pants amidst the passion of their lovemaking. "I belong to you."

 _"You're mine,_ " Lyon whispers with a wicked smile, and his eyes gleam.

* * *

"Father's going to be upset if we don't set out home soon. We've overstayed our time here. You read the letter too, Ephraim."

"I know what his letter said," Ephraim replies. "I know what it said."

"So why are you asking this? It's already been 6 months time. We need to go home. Both of us together. I know it's hard saying goodbye, I know it is, trust me. But we can visit Lyon again soon. I'm sure father will be fine with more frequent trips so long as we still study enough back in Renais."

"Lyon needs someone close to stay with him through these tough times." He repeats the words Lyon had suggested he say, lest Eirika know the truth of their relationship. It felt wrong, keeping a secret this significant from his own sister. They were twins, they never kept secrets from one another. Especially when it had to do with their mutual friend. But Lyon was right, their relationship wouldn't be accepted. It must be kept secret at all costs, kept secret from everyone, and even if Eirika accepted this, she could let out the information to those who would do worse things to oppose it, and it was best she didn't know. "Listen, Eirika. If you go back by yourself just this once for me, I'll owe you one, I promise you. I'll do a big favor for you whenever you need it, no questions asked."

"Ephraim…" Eirika sighs. 

"Please, Eirika."

"... I'll do it, but I can't promise I can keep father from getting upset. If he sends the knights after you to drag you back home, that's not my fault."

Ephraim hugs her in response. Eirika lets out a startled grunt before her arms wrap behind Ephraim. "Thank you, Eirika. Remember, I owe you one."

"Oh, hush," she says.

* * *

Ephraim wakes from a nightmare.

Normally he isn't one to thrash in his sleep, at least he thinks he must not be, because when he wakes from bad dreams in the middle of the night, Lyon is always still peacefully asleep, beside him. But this time is different and Lyon stares at him with wide eyes, demanding Ephraim tell him what happened.

Ephraim tells him it was just a nightmare, just a strange recurring dream about demons or maybe some war, some sort of horrid things that he can't quite remember.

"How long has this been going on?" Lyon asks, and his tone sounds serious. Frightened. Ephraim's never heard Lyon sound like this before. 

"I don't know. They're recent dreams, I suppose. I only get them sometimes. In fact, this is the first time I even remembered much after waking." Ephraim runs a hand through his bangs. "Nonsense dreams. They're just odd nightmares that make no sense."

"Yes…" Lyon says. Strokes fingers down the nape of Ephraim's neck. Scratches lightly there, so soothingly, and Ephraim closes his eyes at the pleasant feeling. "Yes, they don't mean anything, do they."

"Yeah. It's really nothing. Don't fret over it, alright? I hadn't meant to worry you."

Lyon doesn't speak for a long while, just continues scratching Ephraim's scalp in such a relaxing way, sending shivers down his spine. Ephraim lightly scratches Lyon's back in turn. It's not like their touches during foreplay, no, it's just an intimacy borne from pure affections. Ephraim could, in all honesty, be content with touches like these forever.

* * *

Thanks to Eirika's help, she spun Ephraim's selfish reasons for staying into, well, a tale of putting his grieving friend first while he still adjusted to ruling. However, father's patience was not endless.

"He says a year is plenty long enough," Ephraim says, while Lyon traces lazy patterns on his bare thigh. "He says you ought to be well adjusted by now and that I'm needed home."

Lyon doesn't say anything. His eyes don't meet Ephraim's.

"I'm sorry Lyon. I hate this. I don't want to be far away from you," he says all too honestly.

"Can't you stay just a little longer?" Lyon says.

"I fear I've already expired 'just a little longer.'"

Lyon's fingertips dance from Ephraim's thigh, up to the trail below his navel, down to his half-hard shaft. They'd already had sex tonight, but Ephraim would not complain if Lyon wanted to do more before sleep claimed them.

He shakes himself, then comes back to the topic at hand. "I'll come back to Grado the soonest I can," Ephraim tries. "Perhaps– you could make visits to Renais, too? Ah–" he gasps, as Lyon strokes his length to full mast. 

"Perhaps you can have more choice in the matter once you're king," Lyon says quietly.

"I suppose that, too. But I doubt it'll be for a while yet." 

Lyon doesn't respond to that. Instead, he grips Ephraim's shaft rather tightly, eliciting a rather undignified squeak from the prince. Then he begins pumping it fast, almost aggressively so.

"Ly– Lyo– _oh,_ " Ephraim groans.

He's liked to think his stamina has gotten better at this point, but sometimes Lyon still surprises him and makes him come so soon, and this is one of those times, as Ephraim gives up and releases into pleasure. It didn't help he was already sensitive from earlier rounds. Lyon smiles for a moment, and then it fades. And then he keeps stroking.

"Don't you want me to do you?" Ephraim asks a little breathlessly.

"Don't worry about me."

His thighs are shaking. "Is this because I have to leave–"

"Don't," Lyon says a little louder. 

"I really am sorry I ca– can't do something to stay, but– gods, can you, hah, not grip so tight?"

Lyon slackens his grip just a tad.

"I worry about these things too, alright? I don't want to think of how h– hard its going to be to see each other. I don't want to think about– fuck– think about marrying a woman when–"

"Stop talking," Lyon warns.

"But we'll each have to find a wife someday. We need to talk about this."

"Don't worry about those things."

"But we have to."

Lyon grips his balls in his other hand, in just a way that robs Ephraim's ability to speak, and in moments more, another orgasm shocks through his system and bleeds him dry.

"Listen to me. Some random woman isn't going to get to touch you like this. I'm the only one who'll get to touch you like this."

"That's not what I meant to say–"

But Lyon keeps on stroking his already oversensitive shaft and teasing his balls relentlessly, like he hasn't just come again, and its a little painful even if Ephraim doesn't want to admit that. But really he is just finding it harder and harder to think.

"Ah– alright, Lyon, alright, let's stop for a minute– _ah_ "

"I thought you were someone who never backed down from a challenge."

"What challenge?"

"I mean is this too much for you? Just my hands?"

"Lyon, are we– are we fighting? Are we having an argument right now?"

"Just stop talking."

"But I need you to talk to me!"

Lyon frowns. He drops his head down under Ephraim's shaft, and then he is mouthing at his balls wetly.

"– _fuck_ " Ephraim hisses while Lyon licks and sucks at the skin there, never ceasing his ministrations for a moment. His hips jerk, and maybe its seconds or minutes later, its hard to tell, but another orgasm rips through him and its not even satisfying this time, being pulled from him so soon and forcefully, the things Lyon is doing with his hands and mouth are just overstimulation now.

"Lyon, really, let's stop, stop," Ephraim pants, eyes shut. 

Then Lyon finally lets up. Takes his mouth and hands away from Ephraim's length. Ephraim is still catching his breath and keeping his eyes shut, but after some moments he finds its a little quiet.

"Lyon?" He says again, cracking open an eye now. Lyon's dropped his head, and so Ephraim can't see his face. But Lyon's shoulders, they are – shaking?

"Lyon? What's the matter?"

"Ephraim." 

He says his name in such a small voice.

"How would you feel… if I did something bad. If I did something that hurt you."

Ephraim sits up, leans forwards, cups Lyon's cheeks in both his hands. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean," Lyon continues, "what if I did something so awful it was unforgivable. What if I hurt a lot of people, including you and your family. How would you look at me then?"

"Lyon, what does this have to do with? I promise you haven't done anything to hurt me. I– I love you," the word slips clumsily off his tongue. He's not used to saying it aloud, even if it's true, even if they both know it.

"But what if I did?"

"Then I'm certain I'd forgive you. I can't imagine anything you could do that'd make me hate you."

Somehow, its the wrong thing to say. Lyon heaves a sob, and his tears spill on Ephraim's stomach.

"Gods, please don't cry, Lyon it'll be alright," says Ephraim as he wipes Lyon's tears. "If you really did something, I'm certain I must've already forgiven you for it a long time ago."

"We could've had this a long time ago if I wasn't such a fool," Lyon says into Ephraim's chest. His shaking arms wrap around Ephraim's middle.

Ephraim does much the same to hold him. "Well we have this now, right? I know I have to go home for a while... but I'll come back soon. It's not the end of the world."

"The end of the world," Lyon echoes.

"Maybe you just need some sleep. This stress is getting to you again. Things will work out alright, I promise."

"You're making promises about a future you can't see?"

"I don't make promises I can't keep."

Lyon remains silent for a long time, until the silence isn't from lack of talking but a lack of consciousness, as they both fall into an uncertain sleep.

* * *

He kisses Ephraim softly that next morning to wake him, and says he is sorry for the night prior. Says he was acting rashly because the thought of being without Ephraim makes him feel like being speared clean through the chest where his heart lies. Ephraim laughs sadly and says what a sad metaphor that is, Lyon, but don't worry so, we'll be together again soon enough, he swears it.

* * *

When he returns home, he feels unease. He'd never been away from home so long, let alone apart from his twin so long, and it feels odd returning alone. There is an unidentifiable shift between himself and Eirika that he cannot put into words, but perhaps in the months he's been away from her side, perhaps they have grown apart some. 

He finds out there'd been another reason why his father insisted he come home quickly now– there was trouble brewing with Carcino, bandits and brigands causing skirmishes on their borders leading to larger conflicts over territory that could simply not be ignored. Carcino and their government needed to be put in their place if they thought they could simply allow this to happen to the villagers living on Renais lands. And so Ephraim was to take charge of the battle strategies, both to gain real world experience and to prove himself in real battle, as Ephraim has always wanted to prove his strength in such a matter as this.

"I won't let you down, father," he says to king Fado, and his father smiles wearily but proudly back at him.

Eirika comes to him the night before he will lead Renais battalions to where the fight is brewing.

"Ephraim," she says. "Brother."

"What is it?"

"Remember before, when you said you'd owe me any favor if I covered for you?"

"Yes?" he says, and waits.

Moments pass, and he prompts her again. "Yes?"

She holds her tongue still, and then she looks to the side. "...Nevermind. Listen. Stay safe."

"I will." He gives her a side hug and confidently smiles at her. "I don't pick fights I can't win."

"But you're not picking this fight."

"Still, though," he says. "Don't fret, I'll come home the victor."

She smiles at him sadly. "I'm sure you will."

* * *

They've spent weeks stationed on the border, driving back Carcino's advances. It's exhausting, the fight, but Ephraim feels alive in real battle in a way he'd never expected. Perhaps he's a spoiled prince, to welcome a fight, or perhaps he was born for this. But he feels alive with a lance in hand and the passion that comes with victory. Truthfully, the closest he's ever felt to this kind of excitement is within Lyon's bed.

The early victories make him reckless, though. His battle strategies falter when he charges headfirst into enemy territory, only to be met with double the opposition anyone had anticipated. And his troops are in danger. They're all in serious, serious danger, because a fight like this is nigh impossible without reinforcements.

He has no idea where they come from, but like a gods given blessing, reinforcements do come. The tide of battle changes instantly, and victory is claimed by Renais.

The most shocking part of all is finding Lyon when he makes it back to camp.

"Where did you think your reinforcements came from?" Lyon asks like it's simple, like Grado isn't so far away from carcino that it's ludicrous for them to travel this distance, this _speedily_ , for a fight they're not a part of. Not to mention the question of _how_ Lyon found out, and when did he arrange this battalion, and why he is here in person when he should be in Grado.

Well, no, the answer to the last question is obvious. When Lyon's hands trace the pattern of new scars on Ephraim's skin, back at their encampment that night, it's obvious. When Lyon drags Ephraim's trousers off and they move their bodies together in tandem, the reason why is obvious.

It's risky, to partake in this now. Only thin tent walls separate them from the eyes and ears of both their nations' soldiers. Risky, self-indulgent, reckless. The thing is, Ephraim is all of those things.

* * *

He dreams that night of the same battle they'd faced that day, of the reinforcements from Grado's army coming to aid them, but this time something is wrong. The soldiers who come to fight alongside them aren't men. They are beasts, in men's clothing. Corpses given life and half rotten away, skeletal apparitions, giant spiders, and other horrendous creatures he's never seen before – but his unconscious mind supplies the names. Gorgons. Mogalls. Tarvos.

Lyon whispers to him not to worry about the details. What matters is the victory, as the ends justify the means. And if Ephraim had any real objections, Lyon melts them away with kisses that make his knees weak. It's been too long since he's held Lyon, too long for him to stand it any longer.

And like all his other strange dreams, it's only typical that he remembers next to none of it upon waking. 

Rather, the next morning Lyon whispers into the shell of Ephraim's ear– "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could rule together one day?"

And that is a dream Ephraim would fight for.

* * *

It takes years, but that dream Lyon spoke of, that far-off dream of a country they could rule together… it comes to be. The newfound kingdom of Renado, where the new capital rests upon the old borders of the former countries. Where they never have to be separated again, because this castle is their new home they share with one another.

The day "Renais" and "Grado" die as separated nations is the day they are wed. Ephraim is suited in ceremonial garb of Renais' colors. Lyon wears flowing white robes with violet accents and it's all picturesque, perfect. The kiss they share at the alter feels electrifying.

"You're mine," Lyon says in bed that night, like he always does, except this time it's official. This time they are husbands. This time is the first Ephraim repeats back "I'm yours," as a married man. 

Lyon's smile is ravishing. He pushes, pushes Ephraim down onto the bedding, and quickly scoots forwards until he is seated above Ephraim's mouth. A seat at his most favorite throne. Ephraim pulls him down by the thighs and tastes inside his entrance. And Lyon's hips roll, and Ephraim works his tongue faster, and he can feel himself straining in his trousers just from pleasuring his love so.

Lyon comes untouched as he rides Ephraim's mouth. He slides off enough for Ephraim to somewhat sit up between his legs. Ephraim licks a stripe up his sensitive shaft and says, "what else would you like on our wedding night, love?"

"You. All of you," Lyon whispers. "Only you."

* * *

With each of their strengths, they usher in decades of prosperity for all their citizens. Lyon's push for advancements in dark magical study brings in new sciences, advanced medicines, and they save countless lives from plague and injury and disaster alike. It's Lyon's dream come true, and Ephraim is so happy for him.

And as for Ephraim's dreams, well. He's long since lived his glory days where he could fight in a war's front lines, or gallivant across the country on horseback looking for brigands to take down. His bones creak now, and his muscles have grown weary. There is more gray in his hair now than emerald. Old scars litter his body, but Lyon still says they are handsome.

Lyon, whose hair grows white now, and yet the aged lines on his face are beautiful in a way.

Ephraim looks at those lips he's kissed a million times, and wonders what it is Lyon means to speak to him about. Because he knows Lyon's tells and the look he wears means he has something on his mind.

Lyon speaks, "These bodies of ours, Ephraim… they won't last much longer now. I fear the day I may wake up without you is coming soon."

"We're only human. It can't be helped." Ephraim's a little sad to say the words aloud, though. He hates thinking of it too.

"I've been thinking a lot about the old days. Remember when we first kissed?"

"I remember I couldn't believe how bold you'd been," Ephraim laughs softly. "But I'm... I'm so glad you were that bold."

"If I wasn't, would you ever have looked at me in that way?"

"Lyon…" he blinks. Doesn't know what to say. And the first thing to come to mind blurts from his mouth, irrelevant and stupid. "I had a nightmare."

Lyon turns.

"I guess I'm remembering it now, because...because it took place right before that visit where we, you know. Actually, in my dream, the visit never happened. Because… there was a war. All of Magvel was involved with it, and I think, I had to fight you? I don't remember why, only that it had to do with some stones. It doesn't make any sense, but we fought anyway. It was a weird nightmare I felt I couldn't wake from."

Lyon's looking– staring, intensely at Ephraim. And he looks startled, maybe. "How did the dream end?"

"You, you died in my arms. I guess because we were fighting." Ephraim squints. "But the thing is, I remember dying in your arms, too. I can't remember which is which."

"...funny," Lyon says. It isn't, though.

They are both silent for some moments.

"I don't want you to die," Lyon says.

Ephraim puts a scarred hand on his shoulder. 

"Be happy that we got to grow old together… think of all we accomplished, and all side by side."

"But it just isn't fair you're going to die soon."

"Well. What's longer than a lifetime?" Ephraim asks. The way Lyon said "you're" and not "we're" strikes him as odd, too, but–

"There are greater things," Lyon says with a far-off look.

"I don't understand."

Lyon is silent, and then he is grabbing Ephraim's hand with a grip quite fierce. "What if we could live forever? What if we could become gods?"

"Um..." He feels a strange twist in his gut. A mixture of confusion, dread. "What kind of a question is that?"

"I mean what if you had the chance to become immortal?"

"Your magic advancements in medicine haven't come that far yet," he laughs.

"I'm being serious."

Ephraim just stares. "Well... hypothetically... no, I wouldn't want that. I've lived a life I can be proud of. I don't know what I'd do with forever. I don't know what any of us would do. It just sounds lonely."

"...I understand. Of course. That's not a life for you…" Lyon says, so strangely, and Ephraim sees a flash of something in his eyes.

Suddenly the aged lines on Lyon's face fall away, and suddenly Lyon looks as young as the day they married, no, even more youthful than then. And his eyes aren't violet, but a blood red.

"I'm selfish, but even a lifetime wasn't enough... I need more," he says. "I'm sorry, Ephraim, but I can't... I just can't, without you…"

"What–" Ephraim starts. He doesn't finish before a brilliant purple light envelopes them both.

"Remember how you said once, that you'd forgive me for anything?"

Those are the last words Ephraim hears.

* * *

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Ephraim says this time around, when he hugs Lyon fiercely upon arrival to Grado, after news of Vigarde's death reached Renais.

"I'll be alright," Lyon assures, his face tired, but he is ready to begin anew. His eyes flicker to Ephraim's. "Now that you're here."

* * *

The eve before Ephraim is to ride towards Carcino's borders to face the fight head on, Eirika says to him, "Remember once, you promised me a big favor? That you'd do something for me without question?"

"What is it you have in mind?"

"I need you to come with me to a place called Caer Pelyn."

**Author's Note:**

> is there a time loop happening here? wouldn't you like to know  
> I scream about ephlyon over on twitter [@gradoprinceiyon](https://twitter.com/gradoprinceIyon/)


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